


I'll Bring the Shotgun

by AKnightOfAGoodKing



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Green Arrow - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Father-Son Relationship, Loss of Virginity, Overprotective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 01:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15425661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKnightOfAGoodKing/pseuds/AKnightOfAGoodKing
Summary: [DO NOT REPOST/REUSE MY WORK(S) WITHOUT MY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT AND PERMISSION]First, I want to say I'm a fucking lazy asshole because I asked to write a fanfiction about this artworkmonthsago, and I barely got to itnow. I'm so sorry to the amazing artist who waitedwaytoo long for a response. Please go check them out! :DSecond, note that this work isn't a Loveless!au. (Sorry about that!)Third, this fanart is also included in this work: http://zaainart.tumblr.com/post/169871883271/it-really-helps-if-you-share-v-trying-a-new-morePlease do not repost/reuse fanart without the original artist's acknowledgement and permission, in addition to properly crediting and sourcing. Otherwise, it's art theft, and if you do it anyway without the original artist's consent, please go away. You are not welcomed here, and Idespiteyou. If not, again, please check out the artist and show your love and support! ^^





	I'll Bring the Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [this loveless!au art reponse](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/400389) by @zaainart. 



> **[DO NOT REPOST/REUSE MY WORK(S) WITHOUT MY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT AND PERMISSION]**
> 
> First, I want to say I'm a fucking lazy asshole because I asked to write a fanfiction about this artwork _months_ ago, and I barely got to it _now_. I'm so sorry to the amazing artist who waited _way_ too long for a response. Please go check them out! :D 
> 
> Second, note that this work isn't a Loveless!au. (Sorry about that!) 
> 
> Third, this fanart is also included in this work: http://zaainart.tumblr.com/post/169871883271/it-really-helps-if-you-share-v-trying-a-new-more 
> 
> Please do not repost/reuse fanart without the original artist's acknowledgement and permission, in addition to properly crediting and sourcing. Otherwise, it's art theft, and if you do it anyway without the original artist's consent, please go away. You are not welcomed here, and I _despite_ you. If not, again, please check out the artist and show your love and support! ^^

Alfred Pennyworth, butler of Wayne Manor and prime caretaker of the Wayne fortune heir, didn't simply hear the front entrance open; he felt it, like a hair standing up in cold temperature. So he stepped out of the kitchen from preparing after-party snacks, hands behind his back to greet the child he cared for and loved. 

"Welcome back, Master Bruce," the Englishman said with a smile. Then he took in his ward's appearance, which had become somewhat . . .  _messy_ , since the teenager had left for the school dance. Alfred narrowed his eyes, noting everything and making deductions. 

Bruce was not longer wearing his suit jacket, not even carrying it so he must had either lost it or simply left it behind. His golden necktie was undone, falling down his shoulders, framing  _two_ unbuttoned buttons, when Alfred remembered correctly that he had helped Bruce tie that tie and button those buttons.  _Someone_ had undone them, seeing that there were also crinkles on the teen's dress shirt, as if he had been roughhousing, but the evading eye contact spoke otherwise, Bruce almost glowering at everything that wasn't the old butler. Even Bruce's hair was put out of place, as if hands went through the dark locks roughly, almost  _greedy_.

"Interesting party, sir?" Alfred asked, keeping his temper in check as he stepped closer to his ward for closer inspection. Bruce's lips were swollen with bite marks, which was much more noticeable while the boy was pouting his pout. 

Bruce hummed out a non-answer. 

"Did you meet with Mister Queen?" Alfred continued, hands still clasped behind his back. 

Bruce's blue eyes widened for a millisecond at the mention of  _that_ name, but Alfred caught it, piecing everything together quite quickly.

Alfred let out a sigh, knowing that his ward was growing up, becoming a man, and the butler was so proud to watch Bruce leave his shell as a scared, truamatized orphan. He had every faith that Bruce can, and will, be happy, and he hoped for a family that Bruce could call his own. Alfred wanted nothing less for the boy he considered his own son. 

And yet, at the thought of Bruce out growing his childhood, out growing  _him_ , made Alfred feel a little lonely, a little less necessary for the big picture. That made Alfred cling on to the  rest of the days he had left with a Bruce who needed him the most, his attention and subtle affection, his protection. 

"I'll go get the shotgun," Alfred said, huffing in a sad amusement.

Bruce gasped, fear in his eyes for his childhood friend and classmate, and for the first time in years, the teen prayed.

.

.

.

"Indeed, Alfred," Moira Queen said, chuckling as her son attempted to gesturing her to  _get off the phone!_ "Oh, he's here, no suit jacket, no perfectly gelled back hair."

 _Oh my God, he's going to shoot me_ , Oliver immediately thought, throwing his hands into his hair in desperation. Why, oh why didn't he think of cleaning himself up a bit before going home? 

Oh, yeah, because neither he nor Bruce were in the position to  _think calmly_ not even five minutes after having sex for the first time.  _Oh my God_ , Oliver silently cried,  _Mom is discussing my sex life with Bruce's butler. What has my life come to!_

"—no other person. Those two have been friends since they were babies! Even though they fight a lot, they cert—"

" _Moooooooom_ , _stooooop_ ," Oliver begged loudly, unable to take the embarrassment any longer. "Don't give him more of a reason to come hunt me down. I can never go back to Gotham!"

Moira chuckled into the receiver, petting her son's yellow hair. "Alfred wouldn't do that, Ollie," she assured, though it didn't help. "As long as you and Bruce used protection and did all the necessary preparations and nobody got hurt—"

"But,  _Mom_ , Bruce cried out loud the entire time! He told me it felt fine, but his face was scrunched up like he wanted to scream. He kept biting my lip! I mean, did I do something wrong? Bruce is okay, right?" 

"He's fine, baby, just needs to clean up and rest. And don't worry, Ollie, I'm sure Bruce had a nice time. Don't you think, Alfred?" 

"Oh my God, don't ask  _him_!"

"You worry too much. Oh, he just ended the call. I wonder what's that all about. I'll just have to call him back another time. Now, Ollie, tell me everything. Your mother feels so giddy! My little Oliver is becoming a man, so now the first thing you must learn is what you did wrong."

Oliver's green eyes widened significantly, knowing that he could not escape this. 

* * *

_Twenty-five years later . . ._

_I'm sorry, Bruce,_ Clark thought as he looked through the hallways of Wayne Manor,  _but you have forced my hand. I'm a reporter, you know, curious by nature._

Really, he wouldn't have to do this if his husband would just  _tell_ him when he lost his virginity after teasing Clark about lossing his in college. That was the time people  _should_ have sex for the first time, thank you very much, so exasperated, Clark asked Bruce when  _he_ lost his virginity. The response was evading the question itself, Bruce claiming that he didn't recall and running away. 

Now Clark was curious to  _who_ Bruce lost his virginity to. It was only a fair since his husband knew his first time was with Lex Luthor when they were still friend and Lex had hair. It felt like such a long time ago. Clark thought to start with old pictures and family albums because Bruce didn't associate with many people gorwing up so it'd narrow the lists of suspects. 

"Alfred," the Man of Steel said when he found the person he was looking for, "where can I find pictures of Bruce growing up?" 

The butler raised a curious eyebrow, pausing in his dusting of the bookshelves in the library. "Pictures?" he asked, taking a moment to think. "There is one in Master Bruce's office. Would you like me to fetch it for you?" 

"No, I'll go look for it myself. Thanks, Alfred."

"Of course, Master Clark."

Clark went upstairs to Bruce's office, which once belonged to Thomas Wayne before he died, and he took a guess as to where a family albums could be kept, out of plain sight but easy to find. 

He searched with his x-ray visions, finding no books of photos inside any drawers or cabinets. He turned to the private selection in the shelves behind the mahogany desk and scanned each book, stopping at the book that read  _Photobook: Wayne Family_. Funny that he had never noticed it before, but sometimes things don't show up unless you were looking for them. 

The book was slim and black, not too large for Clark's own hand, and he hesistated for a moment, feeling a bit guilty about going behind his husband's back. Then he recalled the moment last week that spurn him to do this in the first place, and he was determined, even if Bruce was going to kill him for this. 

Clark sat down on the floor, leaning against the side od desk, and he pulled open the front cover. He cooed at the first picture: a baby Bruce no more than a few months old, dressed adorably in an animal outfit, ears and tails included. Clark felt warm looking at that picture, noticing a beauty mark on the corner of baby Bruce's left eye. 

The next few pages were Bruce from infancy to toddler, and Clark gushed at the picture of almost-still-a-baby Bruce dressed neatly in a suit, his eyes looking carefully at something out of the camera's view. Even at such a young age, his husband was a stoic and observant child. 

Then Bruce was in elementary school age, and another boy started showing up in more of the pictures, a blond boy who looked very familiar. Especially with that coyish smile. Wait a minute, was that  _Oliver Queen_? 

Clark knew that Bruce and Oliver knew each other for years, sharing the commonality of rich, parent-less playboys, before revealing their secret identities as superheroes to each other, but the small town farmer boy didn't know that Bruce and Oliver knew each other as  _kids_ , much less childhood friends. 

They seemed to have been pretty close from the pictures, Oliver getting close to Bruce and Bruce letting him. One picture, they were at the beach, dressed casually, and Oliver was on his hands and knees, crawling towards Bruce who was sitting on the rocks. Another picture, Oliver actually had his armwrapped around Bruce's neck, Bruce only looking disgruntled about the whole thing.

And in another picture, Oliver had  _both_ arms wrapped around Bruce's shoulder and Bruce was smiling too! 

Clark felt jealous, because he wished he had been close to Bruce like that when they were young. He wanted to be the one who could make Bruce smile like that, like the world could look after itself for a few moments. He sighed, going through the last pages and growing a little more jealous with every new picture with Oliver. It felt like a memorial to their friendship than a family photo. 

Flipping to the last page, the back cover, there was one single pictures, and Oliver was in it too. But the mood was completely different from all the other pictures because they both looked cranky and irritable, dark shadows casting over their boyish faces as they glared. Bruce had his arms crossed defensively, refusing to look at the camera, while Oliver had that look of defeat and acceptance on his face, staring almost accusingly at Clark. 

That stuck out to the reporter who looked back at the photo of the happy couple and then back to the angry picture, and somehow everything clicked and all his questions were answered, much to his devastation as he out the book down and opened the window closest to him, shouting in near agony, _"_ _Noooooooooooooooo_ _!"_

.

.

.

Green Arrow walked up to Superman right after meeting, noticing how solemn and sorrowful his friend was looking while Batman resisted the urge to shake his head several times. As Batman's long time friend, Are felt like it was up to him to bring attention to it and offer an ear and some advice. 

"Hey, Supes," the archer said softly, managing to catch the Man of Steel. "Are you and Bats doing okay? You look kinda upset."

Superman gave him a face that resembled like a kicked puppy, and Arrow felt guilty by proximity. "I didn't know you and B had been friends for so long," the alien said, putting on a pout that shouldn't work with a middle-aged man but did anyway. 

Arrow hummed, nodding his head in confirmation. "You just barely found out? We could've been considered brothers, seeing how close we were. But that's not something that you should get upset over. We haven't had a proper conversation in  _years_ , and he still finds me annoying while I still think he has a stick up his ass. Though sometimes he makes space for something else." 

The archer winked, trying to lighten up the mood, but Superman slumped even more. "I have something for you," he said, reaching into the pocket of his red cape. "It's from Agent A, because I 'know now,' and he asked me to help him by delivering this to you."

"From Agent A?" Arrow repeated, wondering what the old man would want to give him. He hadn't been to the Manor since high school, and it still didn't feel safe enough to finally go back. But he was curious. "Sure, I'll take it off your hands."

Superman smiled small, placing the item onto Arrow's outstretched palm: one single empty shell casing for a double-barrelled Browning Citori. Arrow paled, understand the message fully, and he could do the only thing that would save his life. 

He ran. 

.

.

.

"It's not funny, you know."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Scaring Oliver. It's getting old, Alfred."

"Ah, I disagree. It's gotten funnier. The boy grew up to have a good sense of danger, as you should. He's become a good man."

"I know. I've always known."

"Then let him stay frightened. Keep the fear of God in him."

". . . Do you refer to yourself as . . ."

"Oh, no, Master Bruce. Surely, it's  _just_ an expression."

". . ."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed, and OP, please forgive me! DX
> 
> If you like my work(s), please check out my Twitter and consider supporting me: [@kappachyun](https://twitter.com/kappachyun?s=09).


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